Dipper
by SammeSlayer
Summary: That's when they all thought about it: their medic...hurt...alone...and with a few hours to live. One shot


**I**t was a bittersweet moment for the team: stranded in the lonesome desert, another battle won that had run the length of an ocean, but in much more dire consequence, a unit had ran himself astray.

Now, the badlands was a desert and the dessert by experience was more than a sandbox of dust and heat. It was the sun with a standing surface. No one could last longer than three hours without water and if they were strong with no water, then maybe thirty minutes more...

That's when they all thought about it: their medic, hurt, alone, and with a few hours to live...

There was simply no time to waste.

Quickly, they picked themselves off the ground and dusted their weapons from where they threw them. Celebration would have to wait and it would discover itself to be quite patient as the search coursed in a loop of walking hills and dunes.

* * *

Time eventually turned to a such point where, their spy was pried enough to reveal that an undisclosed safe house rested nearby..

His surrounding teammates faltered; the Scout and Sniper especially: the austrailians ever propped weapon over his shoulder dipped to the ground with a squeak and the boys' sharp jaw struggled in control to hold up. The engineer and demo man spared each other reflective glances of certain faith until they eventually shrugged each other. ...Suspicious, ok, yes, but nothing much was considered with conscious when a valued teammate was among deprived conditions in the middle of nowhere.

Suddenly a spray of bullets fired into the air and all at once, three of them fell to their bellies. The engineer rolled to his back, the demo man began to dig and the Scout slapped his clean shirt for any stains of blood until the Sniper nudged him in the back with his boot.

"Huh?"

The faces looking up to the Aussie were scoff worthy. He gave a short snort. "Get up mates." He said tiredly. "It's our Heavy."

The Soldier swung the dumb Scout up to his feet by the sling of his bag. The youth groaned in embarrassment and pushed away. "Simmer down, boy. It's only a flare."

"Yeah yeah, c'mon." but the demoman was still digging. The sand he hit was too fertile not to waste traveling through when compared to the surface. Alone, he swiped and swiped his gloves for a path, under the guide of his murmuring allies above.

"Comrade. " someone said behind. The second he drew his fists to wave the engineer away, a wrench had planted itself in place.

"Have you got ears left? We need to stick together." The mechanic began to twist it like a drill.

"Feh." the demoman punched a solid hole a few inches beside him in combined effort. "Once weh find th' doc, aye be buildin a trench outta this latur."

The enginner chuckled. "Always thinkin ahead." he said.

When the talking stopped, they immediately planned a mine opening a few feet back.

Sand everywhere, it was raining around them as they climbed upwards and out of the pit.

Their faces lit; just a few feet ahead as they measured. Finally, they would find him in this endless run.

They ran to the group in search of clear faces and answers.

What they found, drained them.

* * *

Hours later, the engineer and demoman sat tense in an unfamiliar section of the " safe house".

A conference room, it was called; much more different than most rooms and corridors they had seen inlaid from the ground. The walls were stark black and the carpet, a soft beige that pushed against their boots with luscious crunches. The structure here was very… casual; as if straight from an office building of the busy cities. The engineer remembered glancing dumbly to the Demoman before the impossibly clear glass door entrance. It was quite possibly, the grandest, most immaculate room in the entire vicinity of nowhere...and they would have never known.

He sighed in a playful manner. He also remembered the scheming smirk on demomans' face as he mouthed together a certain four letter word with a three letter name.

They really should have known.

They also wondered about the prospect deeper to the Spy's secrecy, but a problem brought them to this room and this problem, as their heavy brawn comrade suggested; was a vital one to be solved before any other. He said so as they all stood well behind safe lines, surrounding their tattered and beaten medic. It was that moment, where if it was a even child speaking, they would all listen with all their heart.

* * *

"Problem must not end with more problems. That is way of success in battle"

Soon, very soon, a silence of words welded among the group. A conversation of emotional avengers ensued between the pyros and scout; a rubber suit squeaked on fidgeting slowly in thought and bandaged fingers tapped vehemently against a metal bat. They took their time skewering images that would make violent right of the situation.

Until the Sniper tugged his hat over his eyes.

"Well said." His smooth Australian voice summoned their attention. "'Savin' friends shouldn't involve detours…" He glanced back to the unconscious medic and nodded solemnly difficult to his bleeding legs that rested near the dismantled medgun.

There was a long pause only the winds could fill.

"...n' what say you all?" The soldier was the first to speak.

"AGh—reed! I'll notify demoman to make a line of defense around the house."

"Already noted." a European voice complied.

The spy suddenly appeared where he left from an unspoken shadow. He held a quick and quiet salute before extending his arms to the medic when Heavys' shadow screamed over his meekly tall self, forcing him to step back and watch as the large Russian gathered the doctor carefully onto his bruly arm that would serve as a cradle.

"Ahem. Gentlemen, it appears we will all be spending the night underground."

It was in silent agreement. All at once the group retailed in the strong steps of their Heavy towards the safe house; all in exception for the red scout who lagged behind a shameful distance.

"…what are we going to do?" he muttered, kicking his shoes deep in the dirt. He was initially wrong for being so blunt and out of his own personality to tread in such doubt but his words were really the epitome of the problem. Their medic was in critical condition and his sole arsenal lay trashed beyond repair.

* * *

"What are we gonna do…" the engineer echoed. Back in the room with demoman. Back in the present time. They could think about the past all day. Could re-route the entire scenario in their heads so none of this ever existed but…such a waste of thinking. Such fantasy…

They stared out into the horizon of the long oval and orderly white table before them. Papers and folders lay to their attention, many of which, they could assume all meant the same thing despite the endless amount of jargon that filled six pages.

It wasn't long before someone entered the building. He did so on proper movement on the carpet, not so much a squeak from the floor was heard. The spy stepped into the room, and nonchalant as he was often, he past his silent comrades in silence in favor of the informative table. He picked up the very top sheet of paper with his thumb and index finger. He sniffed the headline with his eyes.

"Resignment…" His keen eyes shifted for a quick summary, then he dropped the page. "A more fitting leave than others." He gave some time before finally speaking to his staring comrades.

That was what must be done. "We av been given a replacement." The spy announced.

Engineer was baffled. Demoman crossed his arms and scrutinized.

"I'll be..." The Texan started

"I'LL be dumbed stupid to believe that!" demoman cutt him off. "M'mean bloody hell we dunt evn know if the bastards' dead yet. …The medik, you fool!" he prompted with both hands grabbing toward the air. "The MEDIK!"

"Certainly the doctor is not dead." The spy clarified gently. He then cleared his throat as a shift of mood. "...but he iz paralyzed." He replied curtly. The engineer stiffened. "….from the waist _up_."

The engineer stared. "All around the ribs an all---"

"…So put m' in a wheelchair. We can make one eh?" demo argued. "He'll roll faster than the punk boston b---

"That will not do. He has requested to resign himself until 'urther notice."

"Now hold on here." The engineer intruded as gently as he could. "Resign' I understand but what's the skinny on this here replacement fella? I mean I hate to admit that we're lost and this base is empty as a beaten shoe....Plus, the poor sap has no idea where we are! And more importantly, now that we've been cut off with communications..." He paused to muse. The situation grew worse with each word from his mouth.

A still silence filled the air.

"He's right." The demoman grunted. He crossed his arms in frustration "So fess up, ya stalk head, you. What'cha got in that head?"

The spy smiled oddly. "Gentlemen please, what I say is true. Honesty! I wouldn't lie to you…"

"Ey…you know what they say about a rhyming man, laddie?" a frown perked on demomans lips as he clapped his two hands together.

"I can assure you this is no lie." The spy retorted rather pompous and again the two froze themselves in place as he sparked on a tangent, "And if you don't believe the beginning of this half baked predicament we've gotten into then don't even bother listening to the rest."

"…Hah! Try meh."

"So there is more..."

"There is 'plenty' more my building friend."

* * *

In the more prehistoric halls of the base, the Scout and Heavy sat on a bench that was edging a forty five degree angle. The lanky youths' back pressed into Heavys' arm by law of gravity and weight, but the boy couldn't care less about his position. His brooding occupied him, or at least his emotions did as his jaw line and cheeks puffed in and out at locomotive speed.

His brawny friend was the same, only he refused to struggle with such unhappiness. He let it show. The possibility of losing a teammate forever was sad to him, and if the fear were to become reality, he would be sad and nothing else. Otherwise it would be like cruel lie to himself.

Heavy glanced over. His broad arm lay limp for the scouts support so the youth wouldn't slide clean over him to the ground. Heavy didn't mind it. What bothered him was the false machismo in the bostonians aura. The boy was a well over a decade younger and bore extra deep strokes of innocence in him.

The Russian was disappointed to say the least. He frowned. It was time to lose some now.

"Why must you suck in face like that?" He asked half heartedly. "Only makes tiny sad face last longer."

"Ah shut it." The Scout sniffed. "Since when did ya turn into a poet." He gave up. His knees were drawn to his chest and he sunk his head low to his lap. "Christ. I hate this…"

"As do I." Heavy slowly concluded, and he looked no further than his square, soiled boots.

* * *

**A/N**: I apologize for picking on the medic and also for the seemingly random title. It's basically the teams' first time losing such a valued member, so they are all "dippers" "dipping" into both a new and difficult situation. Ah-heh... Also, the teams alliance is up to you for generalities sake.

Anyway, here's hoping ya'll enjoyed this muddled little one shot.


End file.
